The earth is careening straight down the tracks to hell and the humans are at fault.
Trapped in the dungeons of an ancient burial grounds and tortured to the brink of insanity, the God and Goddess of balance have been separated, unleashing a terrib...
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Bloodlines are a funny thing.
No matter how much you love them, you can't seem to fight them. Moreover, you can't seem to stand up to them for lesser significants in your life. Although you may try, there are few things more challenging than dealing with a family member.
Especially if it's family you left behind.
Daniel has mixed feelings. He doesn't want to be seen, doesn't want to interfere and spoil his position, or get in my way. Daniel's whole world of internal conflict swirls in his irises before using a few seconds to take the attacker's leg out from under them.
In an assault, buying me even a few moments of thought is a blessing. A factor he surely knows.
That's all he offers before slipping into the shadows.
The shine of his blue eyes casts out as the last thing I see before a sharp blade wraps around the top of my shoulders this time.
Feminine grace and flexibility, a small frame, with protective stances towards two sections of the body instead of one. The seconds were put to good use. A woman, young but trained to fight. Her scythe is bigger than her, bigger than I would expect someone of her size to comfortably wield.
Weapons like this one are crafted from the soul.
Perhaps one might think a scythe more along the lines of Death. The dark hissing and panting in my ears, the taut arms struggling with restraint.
However, Death is something else.
Death is the wicked cackling as their metal phases through my very skin. The weight of her body swings down and back, a flash of golden hair curving through the air. Bitter eyes scald everything as the Demigod hooks the large staff back in an attempt to catch themselves.
I intercept the pole, twisting it and thrusting downwards.
A porcelain pale woman rolls away, kicking up dust and dirt in every direction. Stabbing the knob down her sternum and raking it into her stomach, I flash a fanged smile and bend over.
"What... are you..." she spits, a faint copper bleeding into her breath. Though her saliva is clear, internal bleeding could be a bitch.
Taking my time, I breathe in her scent and smirk. "Another Fate, it must be my lucky day."
If it were possible for her cheeks to pale anymore, the stark white would transcend human emotions. "What-"
"-Am I, I know, I know... Everyone seems to be so interested in that question, but what about me? It's not like I have feelings or anything, you're not asking me who but what. Is anyone taught manners anymore?" I scoff sarcastically. "Let me put this in terms you understand. Your daddy Karma? I'm the demon in his nightmares."
She wriggles around under the weight of her own staff but it isn't fear in her eyes or in the air. Just a ridiculous fighting spirit. Some ingrained protective nature boosting the movements just enough to come loose and escape with a roll to the side.
